


Not in My Backyard

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a re-working of the Houston Knights episode "The Stone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not in My Backyard

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Black Ops #8 and later in Watch Your Six #5 with Mary Fallon Zane.

**Hermosa Beach**

**1000 Hours**

 

          "How much farther, Father?" Matt Shepherd asked Father Bob as the priest led the way up the street to an old hotel, much in need of repairs.  The Surfside, which looked much worse than Shepherd's Silver Star, had been taken over by homeless teens and twenty-somethings despite the "condemned" signs.

          "In here," the priest said, nodding at the building.  "I don't want to involve the police if I don't have to," he explained.  "They aren't exactly open-minded when it comes to these kids, and Robyn has a younger daughter social services might take away from her."

          Matt nodded.  "We'll do the best we can, Father, but if this guy has a weapon. . ."

          "I pray he doesn't," Father Bob interrupted.  "I'll try to get him talking.        If you can find the room–"

"Leave the rest to us," Matt said, reaching up to check his ear-piece and lip-mike.  "Check, check," he said.

Four affirmatives was the immediate reply.

Father Bob watched Shepherd and the other operators who made up his team head into the building.  They were good people.  If anyone could resolve this, it was them.  Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the broken windows and called, "Ray?  Ray, come to the window.  Please.  We have to talk, Ray.  Sooner or later the police are going to show up, and neither of us want that.  Please, Ray, let Robyn and Sandy go.  I know you don't really want to hurt them."

          Ray appeared at the window.  Around twenty years of age, the young man was skeletal thin, his sweat-coated pale skin sickly gray in color.  He held his girlfriend, Robyn, in front of him, a gun pressed to the girl's head.  She looked almost as sick as Ray did.

          "Second floor," the priest said into his own lip-mike.  "Middle of the hall."

          "I told her, man.  I told her to turn down the heat!  She didn't listen!  She's cookin' my insides!"

          Father Bob watched the young man raise the revolver to strike the girl.  "Please, Ray, don't do that!"

          Ray brought the weapon down, striking the side of the girl's head.  Robyn shrieked, her arms coming up to try and protect herself.

          "Ray!  Stop!" Father Bob cried.

          Ray looked at the blood running down the side of the young woman's face, then smiled and giggled.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Inside the old hotel, Matt and the others had fanned out, working their way up to the second floor.  An occasional door opened a crack, then immediately shut again when the occupants saw the operators moving along the hallways, their weapons in hand.

On the second floor they moved door to door along the east side of the hallway until they reached a door where they could hear Ray yelling.

Then a woman screamed.

          Matt nodded to Chance, who immediately kicked the door open.  Matt and Benny Ray rushed into the room, C.J. and Margo staying in the hall long enough to make sure no one interfered.

Ray spun away from the window, his eyes widening when he saw the guns pointed at him.  He shoved Robyn at the two men, Matt catching her to keep her from falling flat on her face.

          Seeing Ray was distracted, watching Matt and the girl, Benny Ray rushed the man, tackling him and sending his revolver flying across the room.  The sniper frowned when the young man did not resist, slumping slightly in the sniper's arms.

          Margo and C.J. entered, C.J. scooping up the small child who sat, pressed into a corner of the sofa, her eyes wide, tears rolling down her cheeks.  He carried her out of the room, Matt right behind him, his arm wrapped around her mother's shoulders to keep her on her feet.

          Chance crossed the room and picked up the Smith and Wesson, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans before stopping at the window and waving down at the priest.  "It's all over," he called.

          Margo joined Benny Ray, who was checking Ray for any other weapons.  She patted his legs down, but before she could finish, the young man collapsed to the floor.

          Benny Ray knelt and rolled him over, then looked up at Margo, his expression puzzled.  "I didn't think I hurt 'im," he said.

          "I know, I saw you," Margo assured, her brow furrowing as she studied the young man's face.  Ray's eyes had rolled back into his head, and his face was a sickly wash of pale.  But it was his mouth that made her stomach knot.  It was set in a rictus of agony, lips open and curled back off his teeth.  And the sweat, she noted, he was pouring sweat.

          She turned, saying to Chance, "Get an ambulance – now."

          The black man nodded and sprinted from the room.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Redondo Community Hospital**

**1045 Hours**

 

          Ray lay strapped to an examination table in the Emergency Room, but his convulsions still kept two orderlies busy, holding him down.

          The ER doctor on call turned to the nurse, who was trying to get another IV line established, saying, "His temperature's off the scale, wholesale organ failure – this guy's dead, and I can't find anything in his blood work-up to explain it."

          The nurse paused, looking at the physician to tell her what to do.

          "Are those the people who brought him in?" the physician asked.

          The nurse nodded.

          The doctor sighed heavily, staring at the people on the other side of the observation window.  They looked worried, and she knew they had every right to be.

          "Make sure they stick around," she told the nurse.  "I want to talk to Mike in the N.M. lab.  And put the woman and little girl in isolation."

          "Yes, Doctor," the nurse replied, heading out to speak to them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Father Bob stepped forward when the nurse exited the treatment room.  "How is he?"

          The nurse dipped her head, then looked up and met the priest's eyes, saying, "Not good, Father.  The doctor would like all of you to stay until she can talk to you.  I'll take you to a waiting room."

          The five operators and Father Bob followed the nurse to the small but comfortable waiting room, each finding someplace to sit, except the sniper.  Benny Ray crossed to the coffee machine, then fished some coins out of his pocket, dropped them into the slot, and made his selection.

          "Don't see why we have to stay," C.J. said.  "We don't know the man."

          "We'll wait," Matt said, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him there was more going on than met the eye.  He turned to the priest, asking, "What do you know about this kid, Father?"

          "Not much, really," he admitted.  "Robyn has been coming by the church every other day to pick up extra food for Sandy, her daughter."

          "Is Ray the father?" Margo asked.

          Father Bob shook his head, "No, I don't think so.  Robyn said she met him after she got here."

          "Excuse me, are you the people who brought Ray Sharp in?"

          They looked to the door where a handsome woman in her mid-thirties stood.  She was wearing a professional-looking pantsuit under a white lab coat, her honey-blonde hair cut short.  She walked into the room, saying, "I'm Dr. Kari Bancroft, and I need for you to come with me."

          "What's going on?" Matt asked, noting her faint English accent.

          "Please, I'll explain, but I need you to come with me."

          The team exchanged glances, but they followed the doctor to a service elevator, which took them to a sub-basement.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          In a hospital shower room, Margo, the doctor who had treated Ray Sharp, and the ER nurse who had taken them to the waiting room all stood, scrubbing themselves with gritty soap and a heavy-duty brush, scraping their flesh mechanically under the scalding spray.

In an identical room next door, the rest of the operators, Father Bob, and the two male orderlies did the same.

When they were finished washing and drying, and each was wrapped in a single towel, the team and Father Bob were escorted to another room filled with sunlamps.

"Please, sit down," Dr. Bancroft said.  "We'll be with you shortly."  She stepped back out of the room and closed the door behind her.

They all sat, except Benny Ray, who walked to the door and tested the knob.  "We're locked in."

"Locked in?" C.J. almost yelped.  "What the bloody hell's going on?"

"I don't know," Matt said, his voice low and annoyed, "but when that doctor gets back, I'm sure as hell going to find out."

Less than ten minutes later they heard the door being unlocked.  It opened and Dr. Bancroft stepped inside, accompanied by a forty-something black man in a well-tailored, three-piece suit.

Kari saw the fire in Matt's eyes, as well as in the others', and said, "I'm very sorry."

"I had you locked in," the black man said.  "For your own good."

"What exactly does that mean?" C.J. asked, his suspicion obvious.

"May I introduce Peter Munsey," Kari said quickly.

"Which of you actually came into physical contact with Ray Sharp?" Munsey asked, ignoring C.J.'s question.

"I did," Margo said.

"Me, too," Benny Ray added.

"Why?" Matt asked.

"What'd he have?" C.J. demanded.  "Bubonic plague or something?"

They all watched as Munsey stepped forward, setting the briefcase he carried on a counter and pulling out a small electronic probe.  He advanced on Chance, who was closest to him, and pointed the probe at him.  The device clicked slightly.

"Geiger-counter?" Margo asked, her eyebrows arching with surprise.

Munsey didn't reply, moving on to Father Bob, then Matt, C.J., Margo and finally Benny Ray.  "All right, they're clean."

"Somebody had better start talking," Matt said, reaching the end of his patience.

"I'd be more than happy to," Munsey said with a practiced smile.

 _Feds_ , Matt thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          A half-hour later the team and Father Bob still sat in the same room.  The sunlamps were gone, as was Dr. Bancroft, but Munsey remained, watching while the others dressed in hospital scrubs.

          "But radiation poisoning?" Father Bob asked the federal agent.  "Ray Sharp was a two-bit street thief, how did he ever get exposed to radiation?"

          "Probably stole a watch with a radium dial," C.J. muttered under his breath.

          "That's what we want to know," Munsey said, trying to ignore the Brit.  "And I hear that you might be able to help me, Major Shepherd."

          "Who are you, exactly, Mr. Munsey?" Matt asked.

          "Nuclear Materials Commission.  Sorry about your clothes, but you won't be getting them back."

          "That was my favorite jacket!" C.J. moaned.

          "They did you a favor," Benny Ray needled him.  "Trust me on this."

          "Better to have it burned than have it burn you," Munsey said.

          "Do you know what Sharp got hold of?" Matt asked.

          "Cesium 139," Munsey told them matter-of-factly.

          "A low-grade medical isotope," Margo added.

          Munsey nodded, a little surprised.  "Crystals of Cesium 139 are used for diagnosis, and sometimes treatment of a couple of things.  It makes people healthy."

          "It made Ray Sharp pretty sick," Chance countered.

          "Actually, it made Ray Sharp pretty dead – half-hour ago.  And it's going to kill his girlfriend, too, and maybe her daughter," Munsey said.

          Father Bob shook his head and sat down.

          "Excuse me," C.J. said, "didn't you just say—?"

          "That it's low-grade, virtually harmless," Munsey interrupted.  "It is.  Sharp must've been sleeping with it under his pillow for a month or something."

          "And us?" Benny Ray asked.

          "You guys are all okay; Dr. Bancroft gave all of you a clean bill of health.   I'm not lying to you."

          Matt's gaze swept over the man.  "I'm always suspicious when someone says he's not lying, especially before I accuse him of something."

          Munsey smiled warmly.  "Well, I'm rather new at the game, Major Shepherd.  And I could use your help – quiet, discreet help."

          "How?" Matt asked.

          "This is your town.  Sharp was a local thief.  Where did the cesium come from?"

          "Used in diagnostic machines?" Matt asked.

          Munsey nodded.

          "Virtually harmless?" Margo asked.

          "Safe as seatbelts," the federal agent assured them.  "It's a good nuke – if it wasn't, I'd have a NEST team in here to deal with this."

          "Maybe you should anyway," Matt suggested.

          Munsey shook his head.  "Look bad on my annual review.  Besides, from what I hear, you folks should be able to handle this – no problem."

          "And who told you that?" Margo asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

          Munsey smiled.  "Let's just say it's someone I trust."

          "Too bad we don't trust you," C.J. said.

          The man shrugged.  "Hey, this thing's loose in your backyard.  If you want to ignore it—?"

          "Not in our backyard," Matt interrupted.  "Not our style.  Tell us what you have."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Hermosa Beach**

**Surfside Hotel**

**1330 Hours**

 

          From the hallway Matt and the others watched as two men in helmeted radiation suits stepped cautiously through Sharp's apartment door, the lead man holding a Geiger-counter probe out in front of his body.  The soft clicking echoing from the device slowly increased as they approached a messy desk in one corner of the room.

          The second man stepped forward and opened the top drawer, sending the Geiger-counter into a fevered bout of clicking.  The two men both took a step back, then inched forward, peering into the open drawer.  One drew out a foot-long, shallow, lead-lined, rectangular steel case with radioactive-warning trefoils stenciled on it.  They carefully opened the box, finding a sculpted space for a golf-ball-sized object, which wasn't there.

          The man with the probe moved it closer to the box, setting off the frantic clicking again.

          "A good nuke, right?" C.J. asked softly.

          Matt shook his head, not so sure any more.  "So they say."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          An hour later the team was back at the Silver Star Hotel.  Matt waited while Margo sat, working at the computer.

Several minutes later she called, "I've got it."

          The rest of the team gathered at her back, peering over her shoulder at the map on the monitor screen. 

          "Okay, this is every medical facility within a hundred miles of Hermosa Beach with equipment that uses our isotope, how much they have on hand, and who's authorized to use it."

          "It'll take us a week to check all these out," Benny Ray said.  "If we can even get 'em to talk to us."

          "Maybe not," Margo said.  "Look here."  She pointed to the screen.  "Alpine Clinic, just off Sepulveda.  They have a nice big chunk."

          "What about it?" C.J. asked.  "Maybe they just do more diagnostic work than the others."

          "According to the NMC database, Alpine Clinic has been closed for just over a year," Margo said.

          "On the assumption that if a chuck of cesium went missing, they'd report it?" Matt asked.

          Margo nodded.  "I don't know you, but I'd call somebody if I lost the nuke that made my machines work."

          "But if the clinic's closed…" Chance added.

          "Wouldn't they have to turn that stuff over to someone?" C.J. asked.

          Margo shrugged.  "Yeah, but things happen."

          "It's a place to start," Matt said.  "Let's go take a look."  He looked at Margo, adding, "Call Munsey, have him meet us there."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Alpine Clinic**

**1540 Hours**

 

          The team followed a custodian down a filthy hallway.  The older Hispanic man glanced over his shoulder every few steps to talk to them.

"I check head office.  They say they call that NRC, told 'em come down, pick up machine the day we closed."

          "They never came?" Matt asked.

          "No.  No one come."

          They arrived at a door marked "Diagnostics" and surrounded by the ubiquitous trefoil radiation warning.  A second sign read: "Keep door locked."

          Benny Ray tested the knob.  "It's locked, all right."  He reached out and moved the obstacle aside, the wooden door also entirely off its hinges.

          In the room, dusty shafts of sunlight bled through twisted blinds.  An abandoned bedroll sat just inside the door and the custodian kicked it aside.

          The signs of cooking were obvious on the cement floor.

          "No keep drunks away," the old man said, shaking his head sadly.

          "The machine?" Margo asked, glancing around.  It was clear the clinic had become a haven for the homeless.

          The old man pointed to an alcove.  "There."

          They moved forward to check, but the space was empty.  A clean spot on the linoleum in the space told them the machine hadn't been taken too long ago.  The amputated power cable, broken floor bolts and scrap-gouges told them that it had been removed hastily.

          "Damn," Matt said, shaking his head.

          "Did you—?"  Munsey fell silent when he walked up to join them, seeing the empty space.  "Shit."

          "Yeah, that about sums it up, all right," C.J. needled, something about the federal agent rubbing the Brit the wrong way.

          "Any idea who took it?" Munsey asked.

          "A better question would be:  Why didn't you people pick up the machine that was here last year when this place closed?" Matt countered.

          Munsey shrugged.  "Things fall though the cracks.  It's the price we pay for a bureaucracy."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

 

 

 

**Hermosa Beach**

**Father Bob's Loft**

**1650 Hours**

 

          "Ray was a scavenger," the priest said as he handed out beers to the operators, except for C.J., who accepted a cold coke from the priest.  "He picked up the little things left behind by other thieves."

          "This machine wasn't a 'little thing'," Matt said, twisting his bottle open and taking a sip.

          "According to what I could find, it probably weighed about a ton," Margo said.

          "A ton?" Father Bob echoed.

          "Did Sharp have a partner?" Benny Ray asked the priest.

          Father Bob thought for a moment, then said, "I wouldn't call them partners, but there were a couple of guys he hung out with quite a bit.  Ernie's another thief – I don't know his last name.  He was living with Ray before Robyn entered the picture.  I think Ernie staked out another room in the Surfside."

"And the other guy?" Matt asked.

"Rico Manero.  He runs a junkyard, up in El Segundo, I think it is.  He comes down here from time to time to buy trinkets off the local pack-rats.  Personally, I think he commissions them to steal cars for him, but I can't prove it."

"Junkyard might be just the place to hide a one-ton machine," Chance said thoughtfully.  The others nodded.

"Can't hurt to check it out, boss," Benny Ray suggested.

Matt stood, setting the bottle with what was left of his beer on the coffee table.  "Let's go."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Manero's Junkyard**

**El Segundo, CA**

**1745 Hours**

 

          "Margo, you're with me.  The rest of you, take a look around," Matt instructed, he and Margo starting for a ramshackle shack with a sign reading "office" nailed to the door while the other three operators fanned out, checking between the stacked rows of cars, some flattened, some piled up reasonably intact.

          Inside the shack they found a tall, muscular man in his late forties sitting at a desk, reading the sports page.  He didn't look up until Matt cleared his throat.

          "Mr. Manero?"

          Manero's gaze swept over the couple, resting a little longer on Margo than on Matt.  "Let me guess," he said, "you want a pair of '59 Chevy cat's eyes to nail on the wall of your condo, right?  Sorry.  Sold out."

          "You have a lot of nice old cars?" Matt asked, trying not to let his irritation show.

          The man's eyes narrowed.

          "I'll bet a couple of them aren't even stolen," Margo added, smiling sweetly at the man.

          Manero considered the pair for a moment longer, then pulled his heavy desk over and bolted out a side door, disappearing into the serried ranks of junk.

          "Manero's on the loose!" Matt bellowed from the door.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Benny Ray heard Matt's call and immediately pulled the Glock from the holster positioned at his lower back.  He stalked down the narrow corridor of cars that were stacked fifteen feet high.  Occasionally he heard a metallic creak or groan, but he couldn't be sure if it was Manero or not.

          Nearby, Chance prowled down a row of dead kitchen appliances.  As he turned the corner of the of the maze, he found himself trapped in a cul-de-sac, but there in front of him was a large, white, medical machine with trefoils.  He hesitated, then inched forward, momentarily heedless of his surroundings.

          Manero, trapped between Chance and Benny Ray – and a couple of old refrigerators in the cul-de-sac – watched the black man advance on the machine.  He was the only obvious impediment to his escape, so Manero picked up a broken length of iron bar and stepped out behind Chance.

          Benny Ray stepped out from among the cars and headed into a tangle of old appliances.  He turned into the cul-de-sac, taking in the scene in an instant.  Chance was checking out a white machine, a man was advancing on him from the side.

          "Chance!" the sniper called.

          The pilot dove to the side just as Manero swung the iron bar, missing the operator's head by mere inches.

          Benny Ray fired one shot, hitting the man in the shoulder, spinning him around and slamming him into the ground.  The bar sailed into the piles of junk.

Rushing forward, Benny Ray checked first to make sure that Chance was uninjured, then turned on Manero.  "Don't move," he growled.

Manero lay back on the ground, groaning.  "You shot me, man!  I can't believe you freakin' shot me!"

"Shut up," Benny Ray growled, "or I'll put ya outta your misery.  Less ya want t' tell about that machine over there."

"I need a doctor, man.  You shot me!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Manero's Junkyard**

**1910 Hours**

 

          Four technicians in radiation suits worked on the machine.  Two held lights while the other two popped open an access panel on the side of the machine.  One turned, looking back at Munsey, who stood with the team, and shook his head.

          "What kind of stupid idiot steals a radioactive–?"  Munsey censored the rest of his comment, shaking his head.

          "I take it we're still looking for the Cesium?" Matt asked.

          Munsey nodded.  "Afraid so.  Oh, and could you let the priest know that Robyn Cliffords died earlier this afternoon?"

          Matt nodded.  "I'll do that."

          "What about the little girl?" Benny Ray asked.

          "She's sick, but she's still hanging in there," Munsey told him.  "It doesn't look good, though."

          "What exactly are we looking for anyway?" Matt asked.

          "A blue, irregular-faceted stone.  It's about the size of a golf ball."

          "That's it?" C.J. asked.  "A nuclear golf ball?"

          Munsey shrugged.  "It doesn't take much."

          "Yeah?" Matt asked.  "Then you'd think you people could keep better track of it, wouldn't you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Surfside Hotel**

**Hermosa Beach**

**2250 Hours**

 

          In a first floor room, Ernie Bellows stood in front of his broken bathroom mirror, staring at his bloodshot eyes and sallow face.  He stifled a cough and reached up to touch his cheek.  A hangover had never left him looking this bad before.

          In his graffiti-decorated bedroom, a young prostitute from the building pulled her clothes on, shaking her head as she glanced at Ernie.  "Look, Er, you know, like since nothing happened, I'm only gonna charge you fifty for the date, okay?"

          Ernie leaned out of the bathroom.  "Yeah.  Yeah, that's cool.  Guess maybe I'm catchin' something."  He pointed at an old cigar box on a broken down dresser.  "In the box."

          The girl finished pulling on her boots, then walked over and opened the lid of the box, peering inside.  "Cool," she breathed, starting to reach for the crystalline ball sitting on top of a fifty dollar bill and a few pieces of jewelry.

          "Just the money, babe," Ernie warned her, stepping back into the bedroom.

          The girl hesitated a moment, then grabbed the fifty and stuffed it into her pocket.  "Man, I hope, like, I don't get your cold.  It's the busy season, you know?"

          Ernie coughed again, then walked over and escorted her to the door.  "It's been fun," he said, opening the door and shoving her out into the hall.  "We'll have to do it again – real soon."

          "Yeah, whatever," she replied, rolling her eyes as he slammed the door shut.

          He could hear the hammer-like pound of her boot heels as she headed down the hall to the room she and another teen-prostitute shared.  Heading back to his bedroom, he walked over to the cigar box, checking to make sure nothing but the fifty was missing.  Satisfied that everything was there, he slipped the box into his backpack, then shrugged into it before leaving.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

 

 

**Silver Star**

**2250 Hours**

 

          "Uh, Matt," Margo said, glancing over the top of the computer monitor.  "You might want to take a look at this."

          Matt, who was watching the evening news, stood and walked over to join her.  "What's up?"

          "I was doing some more research on Cesium-139."

          "Diagnostic tool; even out of the box it's safe," he said, parroting Munsey.  "What else is there to know?"

          "Well, how about that it's derived from nuclear waste," she added.  "And despite what Munsey told us, it's _not_ safe – not even close."

          "What?"

          "Munsey lied.  This stuff is deadly, Matt."

          "Damn it!" Matt said, slapping his hand against the table.  "I knew that guy was jerking us around."

          "Guess we should jerk back a little then."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Next Day**

**The Silver Star Hotel**

**0820 Hours**

 

          Munsey reached the bottom of the steps in the basement, calling, "Hello?"

          As soon as his foot touched the floor, Benny Ray grabbed the man, jerked him around, and shoved him up against the wall, growling, "You lyin' bastard."

          Munsey saw the rest of Shepherd's team standing by, all looking less than happy.  "What's wrong with you?" he snapped. 

          Margo stepped up, her eyes narrowed with anger.  "How about what's wrong with _us?_ " she asked.  "What did we get, a fatal dose, or just enough to ensure that we get cancer in ten years?  Fifteen?"

          "I told you, you're all clean.  I didn't—"  He bit the words off.  "I didn't withhold the truth about that."

          "Cesium-139 isn't some cartoon Mr. Atom," Matt said, stepping forward to pin the man with an angry glare.  "It's a killer."

The black man sighed heavily, his expression telling them all that Matt was right.  "Okay, look, maybe there's a little more of threat than I let on, but—"

"You ever plan t' tell us?" Benny Ray asked, letting the man go like he was a piece of disgusting garbage.

"I was," Munsey defended himself, then added, "when the time was right."

"The time's right," Chance said, stepping up to the man and escorting him over to the large wooden table they used for meals and mission briefings.

"Let's hear it, Munsey," C.J. said.  " _All_ of it."

The federal agent glanced at each of the operators, then sighed.  "Okay, look, there's really no real danger . . . unless you handle it directly, or you're closely exposed to its dust.  I mean, we're not dealing in mysterious death rays here, folks.  All you have to do is find a piece of stolen property, and given your experiences, I wouldn't think it should be that hard."

"This should be given to a NEST team," Margo said.

"It's too late for that," Munsey countered.  "Look, I was told you people could handle this.  Tell me if I'm wrong.  Regardless, word of this can't get out.  If it does, we're going to see a lot of misinformed, panicky civilians crawling over each other like rats trying to get off a sinking ship."

"No one here is going to leak the news," Matt growled, his gut telling him not to trust the man, but his head saying they had to follow though – they had to find the cesium.

"We won't say anything, until we see our first giant cockroach," C.J. added under his breath, "then I'll bloody well say something to somebody."

Munsey scowled at the Brit.  "That's _not_ going to happen.  I told you—"

"It damn well better not happen," Benny Ray interrupted.

"Yeah," Matt added, "and we did a little research of our own, Munsey.  Cesium-139 is nowhere near as safe as you said it was."

"I didn't want to panic you, that's all.  If you'd needed to know more, I would've told you more."

"From now on, you tell us everything," Matt told the man, poking the man's chest with his finger for emphasis.  "Understand?"

The agent raised his hands.  "Yeah.  Yeah, sure.  No problem.  But can we get back to work now?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Surfside Hotel**

**1945 Hours**

 

          Ernie lay on the old sofa in the rooms he had claimed for himself in the condemned building, propped up against pillows.  Another of the old hotel's homeless residents sat on a milk crate nearby, looking through the contents of the old cigar box.

          "So, Jack, whatcha give me for the jewelry?" Ernie asked.

          "What the hell is this?" the man asked, holding up the crystalline ball.

          "Beats the hell outta me.  Ray found it in some machine we copped a couple 'a weeks ago.  I was gonna fence it, but I kinda like it."

          "What kind of a machine?" Jack asked.

          "Hospital kind.  Figured maybe it was a laser.  They put rubies in lasers, you know.  I saw that on TV."

          "Rubies are red," Jack said, holding the Cesium up to the light.

          Ernie coughed, a painful, liquid bark that had him rubbing his chest.  He spat into a wad of well-used Kleenex, then inspected the results.  "Jeeze, man, I'm bleeding."

          "Guess you don't wanna go out tonight then, huh?" Jack asked, tossing the Cesium back into the cigar box and looking over the jewelry again.

          "Depends on what you'll give me for that jewelry.  Me and Ray–"

          "Where is Ray, anyway?"

          "Ah, man, he was slappin' Robyn 'round.  That priest from the church across the street got some off-duty cops to take him down.  He's dead, man.  I heard they shot him about a hundred times."

          "Guess that means more for you," Jack replied with a shrug.  "I'll give you three hundred for the jewelry – if you toss in the rock."

          "Not the rock," Ernie said, shaking his head.

          "Two hundred, then."

          "Two-fifty."

          Jack thought a moment, then nodded.  He fished into his pocket and pulled out the money, handing it to Ernie, then scooped up the jewelry and dropped it into a small, red-velvet drawstring bag.  "Better use that money to see a doctor, man.  You look like shit; sound worse."

          "Yeah, right," Ernie replied, already making plans to spend the money on a hooker, and something stronger than pot.  Maybe this time he could keep it up long enough to get some real satisfaction.

Struggling to his feet, Ernie shoved the money into his pocket, then slipped the cigar box back into his backpack, which he slung over his shoulder.

Jack stood and watched Ernie getting ready to leave.  "So, where you headed?"

"Don't know," Ernie replied.  "Gonna see what I can score, then maybe hit the Calico Club, see if Trudy's workin' tonight.  She knows all the new girls.  You know, the babes just off the bus."  He licked his lips, his eyes shining.  "Sweet little virgins."

Jack shook his head.  "Yeah, whatever.  See ya around, man.

"Yeah," Ernie said, letting Jack out, then stepped into the hall and made sure his locks were all secured before slipping out of the building, deciding to forget about the drugs and hoping Trudy could hook him up.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Silver Star**

**2110 Hours**

 

          "Shepherd," Matt said, after he picked up the ringing phone.

          _"Matt, thank God."_

          "Father Bob?  What's wrong?"

          _"I just saw Ernie.  He looks just like Ray did."_

          "Where is he?"

          _"He just left the Surfside.  It looks like he might be headed for the Calico Club."_

          "Okay, we'll drop in and pay Ernie a visit," Shepherd assured the priest, then hung up.  Standing, he headed out of his office, calling to the others, "Come on, Father Bob just spotted Ray's partner in the neighborhood."

          "Ernie?" Chance asked.

          "Yep, and he's headed for the Calico Club."

          The others were immediately on their feet and moving.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Calico Club**

**2125 Hours**

 

          Ernie lay on a cot in a back room, waiting for the girl Trudy had promised him would be along before he knew it.  The cigar box sat open on his chest, the Cesium the only thing left inside.  He squeezed himself through his loose jeans, trying to get hard while he waited.  Picking up the pace made him cough weakly, the sound masking the soft jiggling at the door.

          Jack slipped inside the room, moving catlike to the cot.

          "Jack?  Man, you gotta go, I've got a date," Ernie managed in a hoarse croak.

          Jack scooped up the Cesium and held it up to his eyes, admiring the way the light interacted with the surface.

          "Hey, give that back," Ernie gasped, trying to sit up, but Jack shoved him back down, and Ernie knew he was too weak to stop the man from taking what he had obviously come for.

"You're messed up, dude," Jack said.  "I told you about the hookers – bad trash."  He took a closer look at Ernie's face.  "You're dying, man."

          "Bull," Ernie wheezed.

          "Guess that makes me your sole beneficiary," Jack said with a grin, then kissed the blue stone before dropping it into his red-velvet bag, and shoving that into his jacket pocket.

          Ernie coughed, blood bubbling up over his lips.  "Get me a doctor, Jack," he wheezed.

          "No."  Jack bent down and rummaged though the dying man's pockets, pulling out what was left of the money he had given him earlier and pocketed that as well.  "Better get to the clinic, man."

          Ernie watched Jack slip back out, then forced himself to his feet, staggering to the door.  He had just stepped out into the narrow hallway when he was grabbed.

          "Hey!" he whined, then coughed again, spraying Benny Ray and Margo with blood.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Redondo Community Hospital**

## 2140 Hours

 

          Margo allowed the hot water to wash away the last of the soap that coated her skin, musing how events had brought her to this – again.  And if facing exposure to radiation once wasn't bad enough, this was the third time they had been sent back to the showers to scrub, the Geiger-counters clicking much too quickly for Dr. Bancroft to clear them from the contamination unit.

Her heart pounded, fear coursing though her veins.  The rational side of her mind told her she would be fine, that her exposure was minimal, but another part was afraid.  It was radiation, and no matter what anyone said, especially Munsey, any exposure was too much.

She glanced sideways, at Benny Ray, who had his back carefully turned to her, just like he had the last two times as well, but she suspected that the pink cast to his skin had less to do with the rough scrubbing they were giving themselves, and each other, than he might want to admit.

 _The perfect gentleman_ , she thought, allowing herself a quick peek at his well muscled shoulders and back.  Then her gaze slipped a little too far south and she felt her own cheeks flush.  But he did have a cute ass.

All in all, she decided, he was a damned handsome man.  _If he'd just let his hair grow out a little he'd verge on adorable status…_

"Uh, you ready for me to do your back?" he asked, interrupting her train of thought, which, she decided was probably for the best.

She fought back the urge to tease him – it would be a nice way to escape from the fear that still nagged her, but unfair to him.  "Yeah, I think so," she said, turning her back to him, but not before she allowed herself a peek.

 _His wife wasn't thinking_ , she thought to herself.  _Letting someone like him get away?  What_ was _she thinking?_

She listened to him lather up the scrub brush, then he began working it over her back.  She knew he was staring straight ahead while he worked, and his effort and control charmed her.

It was the doctor's idea that they try scrubbing each other, hoping that the slightly different angles and strokes might work out the last of the radioactive particles, and they had both agreed.

"You can go a little harder," she said.  "I think we already rubbed off the nerve endings."

He pressed a little harder and said, "Glad it isn't just me."

He scoured her back for the full two minutes the doctor had proscribed, then knelt down and went to work on the backs of her legs and her buttocks.

His eyes are closed now, she guessed, and risked a quick glance over to shoulder to see if she was right.  She was.

When another two minutes passed – and she was sure he had carefully counted out 120 one-one-thousands for each second – he dipped his head and said, "Guess you can turn around now."

She did and he started to work on the front of her legs, careful to keep his head bowed, his gaze on the soapy water running toward the drain in the middle of the floor.

When the moment for the next transition arrived she watched him close his eyes before he stood.  When he opened them, he was staring over her shoulder while he scrubbed first one arm then the other.

"You, uh, want to do the rest?" he asked hopefully when he was done with her arms.

"Sure," she replied, not wanting to torture the poor man.

Taking the brush from him she worked the hard bristles over her chest and stomach.  A smaller, softer brush was waiting for her to use for her breasts and face.

When she was done, she rinsed, then squeezed shampoo into her hands and lathered her hair.  He stood behind her, helping with that as well.

Finally done, Margo turned to begin work scrubbing Benny Ray, per the doctor's orders.  The sniper's eyes rounded slightly and he quickly spun around, his skin a rosy red even before she lathered the brush and started to work on his back.

Smiling slightly she said, "Benny Ray, I just wanted you to know…"

          "Yeah?"

          "I appreciate what you've done."

          He nodded but didn't say anything, which just endeared him to her even more.  Taking the opportunity to appreciate the well-conditioned man standing naked in front of her, she continued to scrub, looking forward to whatever covert glances she might be able to steal.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Calico Club**

**2245 Hours**

 

          Six men in radiation suits worked at a frantic pace, emptying drawers, sweeping shelves clean, gathering up pieces of clothes, stripping bed-sheets and blankets, and shoving it all into clear plastic bags that were themselves placed in protective containers.  When the room had been cleaned to the bone, the men left.

          Outside the Calico Club, Matt and C.J. stood with Munsey behind a yellow police tape, watching as all of the club's patrons were carefully checked by more men in NBC suits.  They watched the containers removed and placed onto an unmarked truck that immediately drove away.

          "Where do you put it all?" C.J. asked.

          "Drop it down a mine shaft," the man replied with a tired sigh.

          "A mine shaft?" Matt asked, still annoyed that Margo and Benny Ray had been taken away before he and the others could go with them.  "You'd better stock up, Munsey, you're going to need more than that over the next two thousand years – that's how long this stuff burns, but you already knew that, didn't you."

          Munsey looked like he was about to reply, but held his tongue when Chance and Father Bob walked up to join them.

          "We canvassed the neighborhood," Chance said.  "Looks like the people around here are already starting to mutate – they're all deaf, dumb or blind.  Whoever took the Cesium from Ernie walked off clean."

          Father Bob glanced over at the unmarked ambulance as more men in suits loaded the black plastic bag with Ernie's body inside.  "No one should have to die like that," the priest said.

          "Any idea who might have the stone?" Munsey asked the man.

          Father Bob shook his head.  "It could have been anyone who saw it and thought they could sell it for a few dollars."

          Matt shook his head, worried about Margo and Benny Ray.  "Father, could Ernie have dumped the stone at a local pawnshop, or a fence?"

          The priest thought for a moment, then shrugged.  "Lenny runs the neighborhood pawnshop, but he's an honest man – for the most part.  He won't handle stolen items, if he knows they're from a local haul.  There is a guy…  Jake— No, Jack.  Jack Kelly.  He's a smalltime hood – thief, dealer, whatever he can get his fingers into.  If Ernie wanted to unload the stone, he might have called Jack.  I'll ask around, see if anyone saw Jack here tonight."

          Matt nodded, then turned to pin Munsey with a dark glare.  "We're going to go see how our people are doing."

          The fed sighed and shook his head.  "Look, don't bother, my people will call when they're cleared."

          Shepherd took a step closer to the man, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "I'm just making sure they don't end up down a mine shaft with the rest of your trash."

          Munsey shrugged.  "Suit yourself."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Redondo Community Hospital**

## 2350 Hours

 

          Matt led the way down the hall.  He was going to find Margo and Benny Ray, or he was going to tear the place apart until he got some answers.

          "Excuse me!" someone called from behind them.

          Matt stopped and turned, finding Dr. Bancroft hurrying toward them.  "I tried calling you, but I only got the machine," she said as she reached them.  "Your friends are fine, they're just finishing up under the sunlamps.  If you'll come with me?"

          Matt hesitated for a moment, but he knew the physician had no idea what was going on with Munsey.  He nodded, then almost smiled when he saw her relieved expression.  Munsey must have called her, he decided.

          "Right this way, gentlemen," she said, leading the way down the hallway and turning right.  Down another hallway and they turned left just as Benny Ray and Margo were escorted from a room.  Both clutched at their towels, which weren't quiet large enough to wrap around them comfortably.

          "Only woman I know who can make a plain white towel look like an evening gown," Matt heard C.J. say under his breath.

          "Amen, brother," Chance replied in a whisper.

          "We would have been done sooner," the doctor said.  "But we had to send them back into the shower twice more before the Geiger-counters quieted down.  And then they had to sit under the lamps."

          "Showers?" C.J. mouthed to Chance.

          The handsome black man grinned and replied, "Lucky dog," just as silently.

          Matt hurried forward to catch up to the pair before they entered another room across the hall.  "Are you all right?" he asked them.

          Margo nodded, carefully holding her towel closed at her right shoulder.  "So they say, but I swear they made us scrub a few layers of skin off."

          Matt looked to Benny Ray, who just nodded his agreement, his attention focused on Chance and C.J., who looked like they were plotting some serious teasing for later.

          "Can you leave?" Matt asked.

          Margo blinked once, then replied, "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to get dressed first."

          Matt's eyes rounded and a moment later he blushed.  "Uh, yeah, of course."

          Margo flashed him an indulgent smile, then headed for the door where a nurse stood waiting for them.  As she passed Chance and C.J., who were openly admiring her long legs, she said softly, "And just for your information, he was a perfect gentleman, which is more than I can say for you."  With that she slipped into the room, the door closing behind her.

          Matt's attention returned to Benny Ray.  "You sure you're all right?  What did they tell you?"

          "Same as last time," he said.  "To be honest, sir, I don't know who the hell to believe.  All I know is, I wanna find this damned thing and get it the hell out of our backyard."

          "Amen to that," Matt said, reaching out to give his second-in-command's shoulder a light squeeze.  When Benny Ray didn't move, he asked, "Something wrong?"

          The sniper shook his head.  "Nope.  Just waitin' 'til Margo's dressed.  I already used up all the willpower I've got, sir."

          Matt grinned and nodded.  "Okay.  What do you say we grab a bite on the way back to the Silver Star, then get a good night's sleep and see what we can turn up in the morning.  We'll all be thinking a little more clearly then."

          "Sounds good, sir," the sniper agreed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Next Day**

**Lenny's Pawn Shop**

**0810 Hours**

 

          Jack pushed past the door, ringing an old-fashioned bell that had been mounted above the jam.  He glanced around, noting that the shop was empty, and smiled.

          Lenny Padowsky stepped out from his small office, leaning against a counter and smiling.  "Good morning," he greeted him, "can I help you?"

          "Yeah, I think so," Jack said walking over to the counter and pulling a small red-velvet bag from his jacket pocket.  He sniffled and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.

          Lenny scowled at the man.  "You a junkie?  I don't do business with junkies."

          "No, I'm not a junkie," Jack snapped, looking up at the proprietor.  "Just caught a damned cold."  He dropped the bag on the counter and dumped the contents out – a couple of ladies' wrist watches, a woman's ruby ring, a pocket watch, a few old silver coins, and the stone.  "I'm trying to get enough for first and last months rent."

          Lenny looked the items over carefully.  "I can go four hundred for the normal things, but I don't know what to do with this," he said, pushing the stone around a little with the end of a pencil.

          "That's a gemstone, right?" Jack asked.

          Lenny shrugged.  "Maybe."

          "Of course it is.  And it's worth something."

          "Wouldn't bother to steal it otherwise, right?" Lenny asked agreeably.

          "I'll take a thousand for it," Jack said.

          "Fifty."

          "Look, I don't want to haggle," Jack growled, then coughed and added, "Five hundred."

          Lenny pushed the cesium around again with his pencil again, then reached out to touch it, but stopped short, his smile disappearing.  Shaking his head, he said, "Forty."

          "Forty?  What happened to–? What's with you, man?"

          "I don't like it," Lenny said.  "Don't like the feel of it."

          "I'm not askin' you to marry the damned thing, just give me a price."

          "I hear things," Lenny said, taking a step back.  "About Ray, and Ernie, and some people – dangerous-looking people – who are looking for stones.  Even Father Bob's looking for it.  I don't like it.  You keep it.  In fact, why don't you keep it all.   I don't need the cops coming down on me for selling stolen goods."

          Jack cursed softly under his breath, but he scooped up the items and dumped them back into the velvet bag.  "You call yourself a businessman?" he asked.  "A smart man would die to get his hands on something like this."

          Lenny shook his head.  "Try over in Compton."

          "Yeah, right," Jack growled, hunching his shoulders and turning to leave.  "Asshole," he muttered under his breath.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star**

**0930 Hours**

 

          Matt and the others sat around the large table in the basement.  The remains of breakfast were spread out in front of them, waiting to be cleared.

          "You two sure you're all right?" Matt asked Margo and Benny Ray.

          They both nodded.

          "The doctor says it probably won't take more than a day off our lives," Margo said, her tone sarcastic.  "More or less."

          "Less better than more," Benny Ray added darkly.  "Or I'm gonna hunt Munsey down and terminate his sorry ass."  The others chuckled, prompting the sniper to add seriously, "Hell, I keep waitin' to see if I'm gonna start t' glow in the dark."

          "You know those things folks won't touch with a ten foot pole?" Margo asked.

          "Oh yeah," Benny Ray said, nodding.

          She looked up, realizing that the others hadn't gotten it.  "We're the ten-foot pole," she explained.

          The others snorted or chuckled.

          "So," Matt said, "what's next?"

          A knock at the outside door echoed down to them a moment before they heard the door opened and footsteps on the stairs.  Benny Ray and Chance both had weapons held ready to use, but immediately put them down when they saw Father Bob, followed by Munsey.

          "Morning, Father," Matt greeted them.  "Munsey."

          Munsey walked over to the table, his gaze taking in a single bagel still sitting on a plate.  "Mind?" he asked the group.

          "Please," Margo replied, waving at the bagel.

          The man took a bite, then said, "The federal lab pulled a print from the room at the Calico Club – a very nice, very clear, and very radioactive print.  It belongs to Jack Forsten.  The local cops have a file on the guy – petty thief, for the most part.  I have a last known address."

          "Wait," Father Bob said, "I talked to Lenny this morning.  He said someone came by, trying to sell him a strange-looking blue stone.  From the description he gave me, I think it was Jack Forsten."

          "So, it looks like this Forsten is the man of the hour," Munsey said.  "Go get 'em."  He turned and left, taking the rest of the bagel with him.

          Matt watched the man go, shaking his head.  _Feds – can't kill 'em, can't stand the smart mouths_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Surfside Hotel**

**0945 Hours**

 

          Jack waited in the shadows until two teen-aged girls exited through the back door of the old hotel.  When he was sure he wouldn't be seen, he crossed to the door and slipped inside the condemned building.  He waited just inside the door, listening, and when he heard no one moving through the halls, he headed for the room he had staked out as his own.  Inside, he twisted the locks he had added to the door and walked over to his sofa and dropped down.  Leaning forward, he grabbed a Kleenex from a box on the coffee table and blew his nose.

          Noticing his face was damp with sweat, he wiped his sleeve over his face.  Still feeling sick, he leaned back, absently running his fingers through his hair.  Looking down at his hand, he found several loose strands of hair stuck to his palm.  He shook them off and repeated the procedure.  More hair came free.

          Jack scowled, staring at the hair, then jumped when a heavy knocking sounded at his door.

          "Jack?"

          The man stood, reaching under his jacket for the gun he carried.  "Who is it?"

          "It's Father Bob.  Jack, I need to speak to you.  It's urgent."

          "Go away!" the thief snarled.  The last thing he wanted to do was talk to a friggin' priest.

          "Jack, I know you have the stone.  You're dealing with something that's more dangerous than you realize.  We need to talk."

          Growing more nervous, Jack headed for another door that was secured with three deadbolts.  He twisted them, then opened the door and slipped into another room.  A window opened onto a landing, part of an older fire-escape system.  He climbed out and started down.

          Before he reached the ground he heard the priest above him yelling, "Jack!  Drop the stone!  The stone, Jack!"

          On the ground, Forsten took off at a run.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star**

**1055 Hours**

 

          The team and Father Bob sat around the table, looking at a Rand McNally street map of Hermosa Beach, the priest trying to come up with some places Forsten might go to hole-up.

          Munsey, having joined them earlier, hung up the phone after speaking to the police and turned to the group, saying.  "The police will be looking for Forsten.  I can't believe you let him get away!"

          "Let him?" Margo challenged.

          Before anyone else could say anything, the phone rang.  Matt walked over and picked it up, saying, "Shepherd."

          _"I wanna talk to the priest."_

          Matt's eyes narrowed.  "Forsten?"

          _"I wanna talk to the priest – now."_

          Matt pointed to Father Bob and gestured him over, then handed him the phone.  Margo had already moved to the computer, trying to trace the call.

          "Jack?" Father Bob asked.

          _"I think I've got something you want, Father.  Something you want bad."_

          "It's not valuable," Father Bob said.  "It's–"

          _"It sure as hell is,"_ Forsten interrupted.  _"That's why you got those private dicks looking for it – for me.  Well, you're not going to find it, or me, not if I don't want you too.  But I'd be willing to sell it to you."_

          "You don't understand," the priest said, "that stone—"

          _"Is gonna cost you.  Ten thousand."_

          "The stone's radioactive, Jack," Father Bob said, ignoring Munsey and his near-panicked reaction to the revelation.  "It's going to kill you.  You have to—"

          _"Kill me?"_ Jack interrupted.  _"Better make that a hundred thousand, then."_

          Father Bob almost cursed when Forsten hung up on him.

          "Where is he?" Munsey demanded.

          "I don't know," Father Bob replied.  "He wants a hundred thousand for the stone."

          "What?" the federal agent snapped, then yelled, "And you told him it's hot?"

          "He has a right to know, to save himself," the priest argued.

          "We are _not_ making deals with this guy," Munsey countered.  "Another day and he'll be dead.  You tell him that the next time he calls – maybe he'll sing a different tune."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## Hermosa Beach

## 1320 Hours

 

Jack walked down the back alleys, his path slightly crooked, his steps slow.  His shoulders were hunched, and at one point he had to stop, retching behind an old cardboard box – someone's home.

He wiped his mouth and pushed himself on.  At the end of the alley, he found a pay phone that still worked.  He dropped in some coins and dialed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star**

**1320 Hours**

 

          The phone rang, Father Bob grabbing it.  "Jack?" he asked.

          _"Yeah, it's me.  You got my money?"_

          The priest hit the button, putting Forsten on the speaker phone.  "You don't sound so good, Jack.  Please, let us help you."

          Margo rushed to the computer.

          _"You're right, I don't feel so good."_

          "You're going to feel a lot worse Forsten," Matt added.  "Let us help you."

          _"Help me?"_ Jack asked, then snorted derisively.  _"I saw what this damned thing did to Ernie."_

          "What do you want?" Munsey demanded.

          _"Money,"_ Forsten replied.

          "You won't live long enough to spend it," the fed snapped.  "Give it up now, while you still have a chance."

          _"You'd be amazed how fast I can spend, friend."_

          Matt shot Munsey a dark glare, then nodded for Chance and Benny Ray to move the man away from the phone.

          "Jack," Father Bob said, "bring the stone to us.  We'll get you the help you need."

          _"What I need is my money!  Listen,_ Father _, if you don’t get me that money, I'm gonna pound this stone into dust and spread it around some.  I'm_ not _going broke, and I'm_ not _going alone."_

          The sound of the phone being slammed down echoed in the basement.

          Matt looked over at Margo, who nodded and said, "I've got him."

          "Let's go, people," Shepherd said."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Hermosa Beach**

**1410 Hours**

 

          Two men in NBC suits dismantled the pay phone Jack had used earlier, while a third waved a Geiger-counter over the various pieces.  When they finished, the men, all using the radiation counters, proceeded up the alley.

          Matt and the others, kept at a safe distance by more yellow police tape, stopped anyone they could, asking if they had seen anything.

          In the alley there was a commotion, and moments later a homeless man was half-dragged to the end of the alley.

          Munsey whistled and waved, an unmarked white van pulling closer.  The sounds caught the attention of the operators and they hurried over as well.

          "Mun!" one of the men in suits yelled.  "This man says he saw our guy.  He went that way!"  He pointed toward the city proper, a mix of apartments, hotels, and high-rises.

          Munsey turned to Matt, saying, "Okay, last chance."

          "Or what?" C.J. asked, "You call in the Marines?"  He shot a look at Benny Ray.  "No offense."

          "No," Munsey said, deadly serious, "the National Guard."

          Matt took a deep breath.  "All right, where's he going to go?" he asked, thinking aloud.

          "Hospital, if he's smart," C.J. replied immediately.

          "Covered," Munsey said, "I have people at Redondo.  No one gets treated without our say-so."

          "What, you can't waste resources on the living dead?" Chance growled.

          "Exactly," Munsey replied.  "Look, worse case, based on the weight of the Cesium, if Forsten powders that stone, he could kill upwards of three thousand, immediate and long-term."

          "Three thousand?" Margo echoed.

          Chance shook his head.  "And you didn't call in a NEST team why?"

          "He's covering his ass," Benny Ray answered for the agent.

          Munsey shot the sniper a dirty look, then looked back at Matt and said, "This is your backyard, remember?  You better get out there and find the man."

          Mat glowered at the man for a moment, then looked at his team, saying, "Come on."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star**

**1640 Hours**

 

          The phone rang again.  Matt hit the speaker button.  "Yeah?"

          _"Don't bother to trace this one,"_ Jack said, his voice weak and scratchy.  _"I stole a cell so I could call and say goodbye."_

          "Listen to me, Jack," Father Bob said, "I know you're hurting, but no one else has to suffer."

          _"Say goodbye, Father, or I swear I'll hang up."_

          "Goodbye, Jack," the priest complied.

          _"That's right.  Goodbye.  Helluva word.  God be with you, right?  With all of us…  Are you ready to die, Father?"_

          "Jack, please, you need the last rites."

          Forsten sank to his knees.  With great deliberation he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small red-velvet bag.  He dumped out the contents, then reached for the stone and dropped it back inside the cloth bag.  Using the butt of his gun he began to pulverize it.

          "Jack, are you still there?" Father Bob asked.

          _"Oh, yeah, Father, I'm still here,"_ Forsten said, continuing his work.  _"Be here a little longer… got something I've gotta do."_

          "Tell me where you are, Jack."

          _"Closer than you think,"_ the man replied.  _"Tell me, Father, do you really believe in Hell?"_

          Margo's eyes went wide and she pointed to the ceiling and shrugged.

Matt glanced up, then looked back at Margo.  He nodded.  The others were moving immediately.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          On the roof of the Silver Star, Jack finished destroying the stone, then pushed slowly to his feet.  He shuffled slowly toward the air conditioner unit on the roof of the Silver Star.  Twice he sank down on his knees, gulping air to catch his breath, then forced himself back to his feet and, deadly package in hand, moved toward the unit again.

Jack lifted the access panel on the unit just as the door leading out onto the roof burst open.

          "Forsten!" Matt called.  "Stop!"

          Jack turned, surprise making him drop the velvet bag as he immediately fumbled for his gun.

Before he could shoot them, Benny Ray and Matt fired, the impact from the pair of well-placed bullets knocking the weakened man off the roof.  He fell, landing just beyond the back door to the building.

They watched Father Bob step outside and kneel down next to the dead man, beginning the last rites.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Silver Star Hotel**

**1750 Hours**

 

          A man in a NBC suit used a remote-control robot to gingerly lift the red-velvet bag with the powdered cesium, dropping it into a lead-lined casket held by another man in a protective suit.  Standing well back on the roof, Matt and the others watched.

          "That was close, damned close," Munsey said.  He glanced at the others.  "Close enough, huh?"

          "For government work," Matt added.

          Munsey snorted.

          "You look disappointed," Margo said to the federal agent.

          "Bet you were just aching for some real-world body-count numbers to crunch," C.J. challenged.

          "Oh, we've got plenty of those," Munsey replied.  "Do you honestly think this is the first time something like this has happened?"

          "I've never heard—" Matt started.

          "And you never will.  Just like no one's ever going to hear about your little jobs, now are they, Major Shepherd?"

          Matt shot the man a disgusted glance and shook his head.

          "Well, guess it's time for me to pack up and head on home," the federal agent said.  "It's been a pleasure."

          "Sorry we can't say the same," Matt replied.

          Munsey shrugged.  "Hey, all's well that ends well."

          "It's people like you who give feds a bad name," Matt stated simply.  He and the rest of the team turned and headed back inside, leaving Munsey and his people on the roof to finish their work.

The End


End file.
